To Err Is Human - Chapter One
Note: Sorry I haven't been around. School has kept me so busy and stressed out recently. Please excuse the shortness of the first few chapters. They should get more lengthy as the story goes on. Anyway...
Within days of Savannah moving in to Chester’s apartment it had been already nicely decorated with Pier 1 pottery and Crate and Barrel rugs. The lingering smell of beer and cigarettes that had comforted him and had once plagued everything in his humble abode was replaced with the fresh scent of Frebreze. Blinds were opened, dishes were washed, and socks and underwear was clean.
Different. It was almost too different for Chester.
While Chester started blankly at his newly polished coffee table, Mike was reading Savannah’s Cosmo Girl that she was about to throw out.
“I’d shoot my girlfriend dead if she her wore her makeup like that,” Mike said, and he showed his friend a perky blonde girl wearing an orange Abercrombie and Fitch tee and extremely sparkly eye shadow.
Chester took a brief look and grimaced. Silver glitter shadow and coral-colored lip-gloss was indeed murder worthy. “You don’t have a girlfriend, dude,” he said tiredly.
Mike frowned. That was a sore spot for him. He had always been unlucky in love, no matter how hard he tried to make his relationships work. The only thing that he had not managed to screw up was his friendship with Chester.
“I meant if I had a girlfriend.” He tossed the magazine aside, no longer interested in reading the Lindsay Lohan interview. “What’s up your ass, man? Your place looks nice, for once. Your girlfriend’s taking fucking morning classes and comes home and cleans, before she studies, and does not go out to parties. What eighteen-year-old does that?”
“She doesn’t have to do anything for me, and I told her that. It’s just that ever since our first night here…” Chester stopped himself. Though Mike was always his go-to guy, he had felt he wasn’t ready to tell his confidant what happened, for the fear of possibly hearing him say ‘I told you so.’
“You can tell me, Chaz. Don’t be scared.”
So he did. Reluctantly. The twenty-nine-year old adjusted his place on the sofa, cleared his throat, and looked at his friend. When he opened his mouth, the words seemed to escape him. What had happened shouldn’t have been terribly difficult to explain, he thought. But the whole thing had frightened him, made him wonder.
Eventually, he got the words together and told Mike the entire story. He told him about how he felt when he saw Savannah crying in his car… he had never seen her sob like that, and he couldn’t think of much to say. Just “I love you.” And that had seemed to calm her down.
It took about a couple of hours for her belongings to get organized: shoes, books, clothes, toiletries, and laptop. After the main things were unpacked they were both lying on Chester’s bed.
*
“You tired?” Chester asked her while running his hand up and down her thigh.
“Yeah,” she said quietly, but he sensed a hint of something wrong-something more than tiredness.
“What’s wrong, Savvy?” Savvy. The nickname he used whenever he was concerned for her, or whenever he did something wrong and needed her forgiveness.
“Nothing.” She’s lying and he can tell. Her voice was cracked. As if she was on the verge of crying.
Chester was afraid to inquire any more; scared he might find out something he wasn’t sure he wanted to know yet. That was the central he felt with Savannah that day-fear.
“She called me a whore… my mother. She said, ‘I didn’t raise you to be some older man’s whore.’ And I can’t go back, Ches. I’m dead to my parents now…” The young girl wept for the second time that day.
“I…” Chester started, but didn’t know what to tell her.
“You think of me as more than that, right? I’m not someone you picked up because you have some sick, twisted teenage girl fantasy, right?” Her voice was shaky, desperate.
Even through the seriousness of her words, he smiled at the last part and shook his head.
“I didn’t start having sick and twisted fantasies about until after our first kiss.” His tone was much lighter and it comforted her.
“Good to know…” Savannah paused. “Tell me you won’t throw me away.”
“I won’t throw you away.” He pulled her close and watched her fall asleep.
*
After Chester finished the story, he became silent and looked expectantly at Mike, waiting for an answer. Mike knew that look well. He had seen it numerous times over the years. Though he was familiar with the gaze, he never did become comfortable with it. Mike saw it as, yet again, saving his friend from despair.
Only this time Mike had no idea what to do. After all, what did he know about making something-other than their friendship- work? Some days he was amazed at even keeping that together.
He moved closer to Chester, put his hand on his shoulder, and said, “It’s going to be okay. You and Savannah are going to be okay.”
Yes, Mike said it.
But he wasn’t sure if he believed it.
Within days of Savannah moving in to Chester’s apartment it had been already nicely decorated with Pier 1 pottery and Crate and Barrel rugs. The lingering smell of beer and cigarettes that had comforted him and had once plagued everything in his humble abode was replaced with the fresh scent of Frebreze. Blinds were opened, dishes were washed, and socks and underwear was clean.
Different. It was almost too different for Chester.
While Chester started blankly at his newly polished coffee table, Mike was reading Savannah’s Cosmo Girl that she was about to throw out.
“I’d shoot my girlfriend dead if she her wore her makeup like that,” Mike said, and he showed his friend a perky blonde girl wearing an orange Abercrombie and Fitch tee and extremely sparkly eye shadow.
Chester took a brief look and grimaced. Silver glitter shadow and coral-colored lip-gloss was indeed murder worthy. “You don’t have a girlfriend, dude,” he said tiredly.
Mike frowned. That was a sore spot for him. He had always been unlucky in love, no matter how hard he tried to make his relationships work. The only thing that he had not managed to screw up was his friendship with Chester.
“I meant if I had a girlfriend.” He tossed the magazine aside, no longer interested in reading the Lindsay Lohan interview. “What’s up your ass, man? Your place looks nice, for once. Your girlfriend’s taking fucking morning classes and comes home and cleans, before she studies, and does not go out to parties. What eighteen-year-old does that?”
“She doesn’t have to do anything for me, and I told her that. It’s just that ever since our first night here…” Chester stopped himself. Though Mike was always his go-to guy, he had felt he wasn’t ready to tell his confidant what happened, for the fear of possibly hearing him say ‘I told you so.’
“You can tell me, Chaz. Don’t be scared.”
So he did. Reluctantly. The twenty-nine-year old adjusted his place on the sofa, cleared his throat, and looked at his friend. When he opened his mouth, the words seemed to escape him. What had happened shouldn’t have been terribly difficult to explain, he thought. But the whole thing had frightened him, made him wonder.
Eventually, he got the words together and told Mike the entire story. He told him about how he felt when he saw Savannah crying in his car… he had never seen her sob like that, and he couldn’t think of much to say. Just “I love you.” And that had seemed to calm her down.
It took about a couple of hours for her belongings to get organized: shoes, books, clothes, toiletries, and laptop. After the main things were unpacked they were both lying on Chester’s bed.
*
“You tired?” Chester asked her while running his hand up and down her thigh.
“Yeah,” she said quietly, but he sensed a hint of something wrong-something more than tiredness.
“What’s wrong, Savvy?” Savvy. The nickname he used whenever he was concerned for her, or whenever he did something wrong and needed her forgiveness.
“Nothing.” She’s lying and he can tell. Her voice was cracked. As if she was on the verge of crying.
Chester was afraid to inquire any more; scared he might find out something he wasn’t sure he wanted to know yet. That was the central he felt with Savannah that day-fear.
“She called me a whore… my mother. She said, ‘I didn’t raise you to be some older man’s whore.’ And I can’t go back, Ches. I’m dead to my parents now…” The young girl wept for the second time that day.
“I…” Chester started, but didn’t know what to tell her.
“You think of me as more than that, right? I’m not someone you picked up because you have some sick, twisted teenage girl fantasy, right?” Her voice was shaky, desperate.
Even through the seriousness of her words, he smiled at the last part and shook his head.
“I didn’t start having sick and twisted fantasies about until after our first kiss.” His tone was much lighter and it comforted her.
“Good to know…” Savannah paused. “Tell me you won’t throw me away.”
“I won’t throw you away.” He pulled her close and watched her fall asleep.
*
After Chester finished the story, he became silent and looked expectantly at Mike, waiting for an answer. Mike knew that look well. He had seen it numerous times over the years. Though he was familiar with the gaze, he never did become comfortable with it. Mike saw it as, yet again, saving his friend from despair.
Only this time Mike had no idea what to do. After all, what did he know about making something-other than their friendship- work? Some days he was amazed at even keeping that together.
He moved closer to Chester, put his hand on his shoulder, and said, “It’s going to be okay. You and Savannah are going to be okay.”
Yes, Mike said it.
But he wasn’t sure if he believed it.